


Metal/Lace

by soundsofdrift



Series: Centuries Flung Forth [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Connor Kenway mention, Evie Frye mention, Kissing, London, Major Character Injury, Mild Sexual Content, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-29
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-05-16 22:54:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5844151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soundsofdrift/pseuds/soundsofdrift
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aveline De Grandpré has to carry out a mission involving Miss Evie Frye. Her brother, Jacob's help is not at all needed, but he adores Aveline and as a result, he meddles. Consequences are many.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Metal/Lace

**Author's Note:**

> Okay hello, hi.
> 
> I am new at this and by 'this' I mean general fanfic writing. (Serious embryo stages.) 
> 
> So apologies if you hate it, don't understand it, shun me from writing anything else etc etc *shrug* 
> 
> Assassin's Creed has set up camp in my soul and lived there for the past few months so I conjured this.

Brows shadowed the warm honey darkness of these eyes. Her tanned, coffee-ingrained face possessed qualities of charm where the tap of the tip of her nose could summon suitors and assassins alike. Not that this was ever necessary. The silvery air of her voice and the rose her lips simultaneously made as she spoke did wonders even he couldn’t grasp. This was a mere fraction of the gracious Aveline De Grandpré.

Her endless strolling around the city of London temporarily weakened her leg strength. She focused on the repellent odour from the sewers on Piccadilly, and the trivial snippets of conversations about flower giving from a betrothed. God, her – well significant other was one way to word it, was…a little less conventional, a little more equipped with anything involving material, metal or – lace. Then she remembered something else that made her legs go numb. She mentally erased her four errands as she walked briskly towards the station and replaced it with one. 

Twenty miles into the suburbs, with a half-empty tumbler of rum sat another. He paced slowly in front of the wall panelled entirely with windows and gazed out at the darkened sky. People drifted past, translucent shadows under the streetlamp before fading completely around the corner. Nobody, except them perhaps, knew he was trying to watch behind him. The brightness of the room made it easier. Every once in a while, his eyes, mirrors of hers, caught a glimpse of his stature. Right hand slouched in his pocket gripping the blade handle, the left still holding, tapping the sides of the tumbler. Eventually he managed to tear his stare away from the window and made his way to the bedroom to flick on the radio. Silence was chaos. He laid back on the bed and threw his forearm across his eyes, hoping to fall asleep. Sleep was vital. An hour of punching the same inanimate bag could not distract him from Evie’s silence. Laying amidst the ambiance of sultry saxophones and bass guitars, he jumped at the slam of the door, calming immediately when he heard the silky hum that accompanied her light footing. Sharp hearing was not Jacob Frye’s only talent. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The door swung open, hitting the wall with a bang and Aveline marched over to the bed where Jacob lay with his forearm across his eyes and a pout from the noise. He glanced up at her face before she shoved away his arm, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. She grabbed his face into a fervent kiss, tugging slightly on his hair and skilfully straddled him. After a while, against his better judgement for she was doing that thing with her hips, Jacob lightly peeled her hands from his face and rested his cheek against hers. She stopped moving. “What’s the matter, love?” He murmured into her ear, circling the small of her back with his thumb. She pressed her body closer to his, breathed close to his neck and whispered with a trick of her waist,

“I promise to continue - doing - this,” an agonised moan came from Jacob, “if you refrain from that question for the next – forty-five minutes?” 

“Forty-five minutes?” He questioned, and raised an eyebrow as she sat back in the cradle he formed with his legs. 

“When have I broken a promise, Jacob.” 

“Really?” 

“Once! Your silence was irritating. I snooped. Sue me.” 

Jacob shook his head a little and grabbed Aveline by the waist, twisted her on her back and gazed down at her in the little black dress clinging incredibly to her slight body as he fumbled as fast as his hands would let him with his buttons. She sighed deeply and stretched her arms to the side, eyes following the length of her right arm as she waited for Jacob. She’d waited all day, she could wait a little longer. 

She let out a groan of exasperation before darting up to her own knees and ripped the button down shirt Jacob had been fiddling with while he watched her. His torso exposed. She sat back on her heels and gazed at - God, she could really appreciate these contours for hours. “M-may I?” She stuttered, the sight continued to render her eloquence absent. No words she said would save her teasing now. He smirked in response and carefully watched her eyes as her pupils shrunk with every blink at his chest. She forcefully pulled herself against him and knocked him slightly off balance as she nuzzled and kissed the creak between his shoulder and the base of his throat, crossing the caresses of her lips to the dark raven residing on his collarbone. 

Jacob sighed internally. He wanted to please her, to watch whatever anxiety she had obliterate in the arch of her back, or the breathless scream of his name, but her touch wasn’t something he was in a rush to interrupt. It just felt so – good. She began to pay attention to his jaw, running the tip of her tongue along before lightly biting his ear lobe. She trailed a hand slowly up and down his torso, lingering up before trickling her way south and Jacob mirrored her gestures on her back, closing any gap there was between their bodies as a feathery sigh escaped Aveline. The game hadn’t lasted this long before. They were both losing. She wanted him to do something. At least, she thought she did. Testing how much longer this gambit would continue, Aveline pulled away and absentminded glanced over at the clock on the bedside table. At the corner of her eye, she saw his arms drop to his sides as he enlarged his chest and narrowed his eyes at her. She was in a little more trouble than she wanted to be. Jacob reached for her to face him and kissed her intensely, losing his fingers in her growing dishevelled tresses. They grew breathless and both stubborn as the other, waited for one to pull away. He wanted to lose. “I want to make you - scream.” Aveline bit hard on her lip and considered what this time would be like. She still wasn’t there. 

Aveline gasped and pushed him out of the way as she jumped off the bed and stood by the door, she saw Jacob’s face contort into the unknown. It could have been confusion, irritation, or most likely blue balls. “Are you okay?” He asked, his voice oddly rising on the last syllable. 

“Well, we’ve – we’ve never been here before,” she replied, gesturing to the entire room, “I’m a little new to this. I mean, that thing with my hips? I don’t – know. Your face was certainly a sight.” She continued to gesticulate and couldn’t keep to one spot on the carpet. A personal non-sexy dance that still tugged at Jacob and he knew why. He might not have been lost completely without Evie. The saving grace was his knowledge that she was still out there. Evie was safe. He repeated this to himself whenever a phone buzzed. Aveline kept him – grounded. They were different in many ways. She was careful. He was free. 

“Okay. I understand. But I don’t want you to run off a tell CK I didn’t return the favour.” 

“Mon dieu. No,” She scoffed and rapidly shook her head at the thought. “Connor doesn’t know we do this. Though he keeps an eye on you more than he does me.”

“I don’t know whether to be insulted or scared.”

“Well, he doesn’t know so much. It’s less to do with us, than it is with uh, our missions. To be honest, he doesn’t really understand your style.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with my style! The people that need to die – die. What’s so special about his style?” Jacob retorted, very hostile. 

“So defensive.” She grinned and bit her bottom lip. “Have you seen the size of him? He scares grown men with a step. Always hesitates a kill - but you see puppies flock to him. He’s one of their own.”

“He’s not that big.” Aveline rolled her eyes. 

“Six-four. Grew up climbing countryside forests, and ate like it was going out of fashion.” Aveline threw her hands up and shrugged. Her quest to divert the subject to something, anything else fell in her favour. At this point, all she wanted to do was cuddle the bundle of muscle on the bed.

“How do you know so much about him?” Jacob replied as he laid on his chest and looked up at her.

“We’re friends. Um – I met him at a pretty odd part of my life, and I guess I needed him around more than I realised.” She paused and the pair regarded each other with solace. “But don’t tell him that, because then he’ll have to admit that he cares – out loud.” She smiled and walked leisurely back towards the bed, perching on the edge facing the window. 

“Aveline, what’s the matter?” She glanced at him and twisted her mouth as she narrowed her eyes. “You broke your promise,” And she was about to break another. He crawled towards her, careful not to make sudden moves that would jolt her position until he was beside her. She shook her head a little and a tear escaped as she brought her face down to his shoulder. 

“I have – a horrible – uh – a horrible thing to do, Jacob. The city is in so much danger – we are in so much danger - unless – uh – I have to do it. Tomorrow.” He gently brought her face up to his and kissed her deeply, gently stroking her cheek with his thumb. Just before he tried to move her head back to her former position, she mumbled something. She thought if she only murmured it, it might alter, hopefully refute its veracity.

“Make sure Evie is stays away from Westminster Bridge tomorrow. 3pm.” Jacob pulled back at least a foot from her and stared. She brought her hand to her forehead and ran it quickly through her tousled curls before braving a look at his expression. 

“Aveline, you know Evie won’t speak to me. How am I to do that?” 

“Swallow your goddamn pride and do something.” 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jacob heard the quiet swish and click of the door and halted his pacing. “Aveline?” He called. Again he called, louder this time. Light footsteps approached the living room and Aveline strolled in, her black ensemble heavily soaked from the the rain that accompanied the crashing thunder. Jacob smirked and slyly brought his hand to his mouth, when he saw her in the door way. He knew she despised the one-piece and even though her legs were the only thing he could see, it still was a target of mocking.

There was a mild glisten to her forehead and he could see her clenching and unclenching her fists as she glanced from his face to the polished, dark mahogany floor. Almost in sync, the pair took a deep breath and looked deeply into one another. Jacob didn’t want to ask the question. He wanted to know the answer. He wanted it to be written in bold cursive across the increasing shine on her forehead. But it wasn’t. Not a fraction of Aveline’s façade could be cracked and Jacob had tried in the past. “Aveline, did you do it?” His voice wavered. She took a tentative step towards him, still grasping and letting go of the air and immediately decided against it and marched off to the kitchen, the sound of metal jangling in the process. His voice evened, hesitation lost. “Tell me you didn’t loot them - loot her.” 

“No.” She finally spoke. Aveline reminded herself of three reasons she was still here. Why he was here. Though her clouded mind had made her mission, his mission, this was still not his business. And he treaded on ice into the void at this point. Aveline’s accumulation of secrets in the past three hours did not make it easy to hide the current problem within her. As she picked up the navy tea towel from the side and brushed it lightly across the surface, she calculated how long she could conceal the deep gash stretched from her belly button across her liver. Her journey back allowed her to begin to apply pressure, her plan was to return and then make an excuse to leave unsuspicious. She should have anticipated the questions. It’s Jacob after all. Her coat was hiding the torn torso of the suit, and as her back was turned, she drew the towel to her wound and covertly applied further pressure, disguised as a derisive hand-on-hip stance. Deciding her position was sufficient, she allowed herself to return Jacob’s intrusive gaze. 

If Jacob knew, she wouldn’t find him until tomorrow. Somewhere. The River. Jail. Most probably, jail. Ever since the first scream down St Michael’s Alley, every scream he heard was Aveline’s. He read and abided by her guarded distance, but his patience was wearing off. In turn, Aveline read his face like the contours of his body. “Sit.” She said, plainly. Jacob complied. “I want to tell you everything. My love, I really do.” Her face only giving away a fraction of what Jacob was looking for. “But not today,” she mumbled, turning her back to him again. She began to fear a blood pool would replace the puddle of water she had created as she felt a growing heaviness on the thighs of her suit. Suddenly, Aveline heard Jacob move quickly from the table and towards her for a tight embrace. It was game over. Her cry of pain and conspicuous wince betrayed her plan. He moved away from her, just as he had the night before and almost yelled,

“Ave – What – What’s the matter?” His face rapidly dissolved into panic and he looked up and down her figure multiple times before resting on her face, still searching for those answers. Aveline held onto the edge of the counter with her free hand and lightly smiled a lie through her perfect, opaque teeth. Jacob could feel the heat rising from his neck to his face and the final brick of the barrier she held up was about to shatter someone’s life. “Take off your coat, Aveline.”

“Jacob, no –”

“Aveline. Your coat.” She dropped the blood soaked towel beside her feet and threw her coat to her other side. Jacob saw a darkening shade of pink emerge like ink amidst the puddle. When he glanced back to Aveline he staggered back as he looked upon a nightmare – his nightmare – in an excruciating form. The suit was in pieces. Blood continued to creep slowly, sporadically from the long laceration. The gleam of sweat fell from her forehead down her temples as she maintained the stern and pained expression on her face. 

“It is not as bad as it looks.” Jacob took her hand and walked them to the bathroom where the crate of medical supplies resided. She sat on the edge of the bathtub, becoming progressively dizzier and gave up fighting the pain she was in. 

“I’ll take you to the hospital when I’m back. For now, this -” He gestured at the box, “will have to suffice.” He quickly washed his hands, then swiftly tore the remainder of the torso fabric to around her waist and sat on the tiled floor to inspect the wound. He applied the disinfectant and Aveline hissed as she gripped the edge she sat on. Jacob would have mumbled an apology, but his mind needed someone else’s blood other than hers on his hands. She knew this. He could not leave this house. “You won’t tell me about Evie,” he continued with, watching the blood from the wound soak the cloth. “Tell me who did this.” 

“It wouldn’t be any use, Jacob.” 

“Oh it would be of much use – to me.” He spat, still carefully tending the wound. “If you understood the willpower I am fighting, not to hunt and kill every a-” 

“Jacob. Stop that. I know how frustrated you are. For one the pain has gone with your gentle vigour. It’s time to cover this up... I’m okay, Jacob. I – promise.” He closed his eyes as he welcomed her palm to the curve of his face. She hoped it was enough, but it never was for him when it came to her. He would bring down the city for her. Jacob was ready to plead as he looked straight into her eyes. 

It was quiet except for the drizzles of the outside that continued to lace the humid air. Lightening relentlessly welcomed the grandiose bangs of thunder as it shone silently through the calm. Aveline was sure he was going to use his foolish initiative and have himself by the Old Bailey. This left her with one option. 

She leaned against the window ledge by the front door, glancing every so often at her wound, hoping the pain would truly disappear, as she followed a rapidly moving body around the house with her eyes. Deep breaths were all she could think of and when she looked up from the ground, the dining table, the dusty wooden cabinet, the out-of-tune piano had an outlined grey haze. The hospital could no longer wait. Jacob rattled and clanged towards the front door like he carried the armour of a knight. That was only a small part of what he wanted to be for her. She quickly neutralised her expression, but her eyes betrayed her. “Look,” Jacob began with. “I want to take you. I need to take you. But I can’t just let who did this not feel the pain you feel – I feel.” Patience seemed to run right past the De Grandpré/Frye Residence this morning and Aveline snapped. 

“Jacob, this is not about you. If I wanted my attacker dead, they would be dead.” His head shot up at her last words. He walked towards her and grasped her face with both hands. “You can’t leave me here. Please – don’t leave me here.” He lightly kissed her forehead, her cheek, her lips. The pair lingered in their kiss, wrapped up in their temporary euphoria. Finally, Jacob tore himself from her and walked to the front door. He was unsure of whether he would see Aveline in the evening, or tomorrow, so he looked to her for a final moment, her face was beautifully unpleasant to gaze on. It was not betrayal, and he was sure her anger had subsided. She was pleading for him to stay, and five seconds was all it would take. 

As she did before, she mumbled the truth. Only this time, Jacob heard her clearly. She watched every discernible contour of his face disappear as the blood descended. 

“If you draw the blood of my attacker, you are spilling your own.”


End file.
